


The Chair

by orphan_account



Series: Sitter!verse [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:44:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana finally lets Arthur have his favorite chair. Now it's just a matter of getting it into his house. Merlin helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chair

**Author's Note:**

> This is set just over half a year after the end of The Sitterfic and is the first of many epilogue drabbles that I'll be adding. I just couldn't tear myself away from these characters :)

“Harder. _Harder_ , Arthur! A little to the right, yeah. Almost,”

“Merlin,” Arthur grunts, pushing up at the armrest of the chair in another fruitless attempt to get it through the doorway. “Can you _not_ say things like that right now,”

“Why not? I’m just trying to- oh. Right.”

“Yeah,” Arthur mocks, “right.” Merlin laughs brightly, eyes crinkling.

Or at least Arthur guesses they’re crinkling; he can’t see from where he’s on the side of the giant black armchair they’re both holding, each of them on either side. His fingers and shoulders are aching and he’s sure there’s going to be about one million little black nicks in the doorway from where Merlin had caught the small wooden legs of the chair during their first attempt. But at least, after twenty grueling minutes, they’d gotten half of it through and into Arthur’s front hall.

“Alright Arthur,” Merlin says, using his army commander voice. “We’ve got to strategize.”

“Sure thing, Lieutenant Emrys. I would salute you if I had a free hand.”

“Good to know,” Merlin replies, and Arthur can feel the chair dip in the air when he adjusts his grip on it. “So what’s the plan?”

“I thought _you_ had one.”

“Me? I would shrug right now if I could feel my shoulders.”

“Good to know,” Arthur says back. “I’m pretty sure I’ve sweated through my entire shirt.”

“Aww, is the baby hot?” Merlin coos.

“Fuck off, you’ve got the air conditioning.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“Merlin,” Arthur groans. “Can we just figure this out already? I’m not even going to want to look at this chair again after we get it inside, let alone sit in it.”

Merlin snorts. “Yeah, right. You love this chair. You’re going to want to set up camp and sleep in it. It’s going to be a chore to drag you to the bedroom.”

Arthur thinks that sounds about right. “Might need some coaxing,” he teases.

And that part might be true. Morgana, having finally convinced Leon to let her redecorate the living room (seven months after Arthur and Merlin had gotten together and four and a half after Merlin had moved in with him), had called Arthur earlier in the week saying that the chair could finally be his. Arthur was, to say the least, thrilled. Though he didn’t like the idea of not having it to sit in at Morgana’s now. When he voiced this, Morgana had rolled her eyes and assured him that she’d get something he’d like even more than his chair. Arthur had severely doubted it, but thanked her profusely nonetheless until she’d swatted him away.

Merlin answers, “No sexual innuendos until we get this thing inside.”

“You set me up.”

“Still. Okay, pull it back out onto the porch entirely. I’ve got an idea.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur moans again, and Merlin pops his head up to eye him over one of the chair’s arms. “We’ve just spent a half hour getting it this far into the house, and now you want to take it back out?”

“Yes, Pratdragon. Obviously this isn’t working. Now come on, pull.”

Arthur acquiesces and does as he’s told, and eventually the chair is out on the front porch again. They set it down and Arthur immediately plops down in it, the sweat on his shirt making his back slide around on the leather. He grimaces but is entirely too worn out to care. When Merlin stretches his arms over his head and bends them to stretch them out, Arthur openly eyes the hipbones that poke out over the top of his jeans where his shirt rides up. Merlin watches him.

Arthur’s eternally grateful for the overhang above the porch, especially on a torrid day like this. He’s already sweating enough as it is; the direct sunlight would make it even worse. Arthur sighs loudly enough so Merlin can hear and enjoys the small breeze over his hot skin. He leans his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes, and sighs. In less than a minute Arthur feels the cushion underneath himself dip slightly and Merlin’s mouth is on his before he can even open his eyes. Arthur immediately responds to the urgency of the kiss and quickly places his hands on Merlin’s thighs that have trapped him in the chair, pressing his fingertips into the denim there. Arthur makes a sound when Merlin’s hands find themselves threading through his hair. “Yeah,” Merlin says against his mouth, and Arthur hums again because he _loves_ it; loves Merlin’s enthusiasm in everything they do, all his appreciative grins Arthur can feel against his own mouth, all of Merlin’s little sounds and light presses of his fingers on the back of his neck that he probably doesn’t even know that Arthur acknowledges. He gasps into Merlin’s mouth when he feels Merlin’s hand against his groin fleetingly, too busy appreciating Merlin in his own head to keep in mind that he’s right in front of (and on top of) him. “Yeah, _yes_ ,” Merlin says again, voice like sandpaper on asphalt. It goes straight to Arthur’s cock and Merlin grins at him wickedly with half-lidded eyes as he reaches his hand down.

“I thought you said you had an idea,” Arthur breathes.

Merlin pulls back for a second and looks at him, confused. “Yeah, this was it.”

Arthur doesn’t have time to laugh because Merlin’s hand is on his zipper, fumbling.

The repeated honking of a car horn pulls both men out of their daze, and Merlin whips around so quickly that he almost falls completely off of Arthur’s lap.

“I wouldn’t have given you the chair if I knew this is what you were going to do with it,” Morgana yells, half-hanging out of the passenger side window.

“Fuck,” Arthur says to Merlin, who, for some ungodly reason, is laughing. Then to Morgana, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Morgana smirks and rolls up the window as Leon pulls into the driveway.

“It’s not funny,” he insists, swatting Merlin off of him so he can stand up. Then he immediately sits back down. Merlin raises an eyebrow at him.

“I should probably sit here for another minute.”

At that, Merlin doubles over and laughs so hard that Arthur thinks he’ll start crying.

“Not funny!” he repeats, kicking at the back of Merlin’s shin, although it is sort of funny.

“God, I hope Mordred didn’t see that,” Merlin says, pupils still blown wide.

“He didn’t,” Morgana answers, stepping up onto the porch and pushing her sunglasses up on the top of her head. She’s still smirking. “Lucky him.” Arthur glares at her.

“He’s at swim practice.”

“Who on earth took him there?” Merlin asks.

“Gwaine. He’s bringing him here after practice is over and we owe him, so you’re probably going to want to stock up on those crisps he likes.”

Arthur makes a face. “The ketchup flavored ones?”

“The ketchup flavored ones.”

Arthur finally stands up and claps Leon on the back when he finally makes an appearance, his suit and sunglasses making him look like a spy.

“You look like a spy,” Merlin tells Leon and oh my _god_ , Arthur loves him _so_ much.

“Why is the chair out on the porch anyway? Trying to get tips from passerby?” Morgana asks, running her black fingernails across the arm of it. “You don’t even have a bucket out for change.”

Leon nods. “Or an open guitar case.”

“Or an upside down hat,” Merlin supplies. “Arthur, why didn’t we think of that?”

“It won’t fit through the doorway,” Arthur frowns at his sister, patting the seat of the chair fondly. “We’ve been out here for like, an hour.” He stares at Leon helplessly, who rolls his eyes in response.

“Fine, fine. Let me try.”

Naturally, Leon gets the chair through the door and into the living room in five minutes flat, making Merlin and Arthur groan and then stare at him, then Morgana, and then each other in amazement. The air condicition has done its job of cooling Arthur off and now his semi-wet shirt is making him shiver as they all stand around and watch the giant black chair like it'll turn into a flamingo at any moment. 

“I swear we tried really hard,” Merlin insists, hands now on his hips.

“And then you gave up and put on a show for the entire neighborhood,” Morgana replies.

“Yep,” Merlin nods, beaming at her.

Arthur turns to Leon. “Could you tell us exactly how you did that so we can put it back there ourselves when it comes time for our next show?”

“Oh, and also,” Merlin interjects, “do you have a guitar case we can borrow?”


End file.
